The Socio and the Psycho
by crypticxmetaphor
Summary: Professional assassin, returns to her home in Gotham only to get caught up in the crazy whirlwind with a boy trying to climb the criminal social ladder. Penguin/OC
1. Chapter 1

This was the third night in a row I followed the boy to work. Being back in Gotham, I was bored. I know, a criminal, bored in Gotham? But I have a particular skill set that is not for generic use. Being bored, I realized I was lonely. It's a strange feeling and I've never cared about feelings. I liked killing and I liked nice things, that's all my life was ever to amount to and that was just fine with me.

I picked this boy to follow because I knew he worked for Fish Mooney who worked for Carmine Falcone; such a combination was sure to cure my boredom. Oswald, Mooney called him, the rest; Penguin. Each time they said it, I watched his face contort in anger, but he never moved to stop it. He was scrawny with sharp, angular features and black hair with bangs cut just a little too short, like his mother did it for him. His skin was pale and he looked to be about my age, but he wore a suit better than anyone I've ever seen.

Tonight, though, I didn't slink along in the shadows. I put on the shortest, tightest dress I could find and walked into Mooney's nightclub with my head held high. I sat at the bar with my drink, turning down every guy who even tried to talk me. I kept casting glances at Oswald as he waited on Mooney hand and foot. It didn't take him long to notice and soon enough he was taking nervous glances at me. I watched as Mooney whispered in his ear and Oswald looked at me. I smiled at him, paid my tab, and walked out. As I had hoped, Oswald followed.

I led him into an alley and he was immediately on top of me. He pressed me up against the side of the building and I wrapped my fingers in his hair. He shoved his tongue down my throat and his hands wrestled with my hips. He yanked the dress up and I moved my hands from his hair to his slacks.

Back at the apartment, I imagined him returning to Mooney after our rendezvous.

"Was she good?" Mooney would ask.

Oswald would grin sheepishly.

"Who is she?" his boss would pry for more information about the new girl on her turf.

Only then would he realize that he never got my name.

I saw him the next day out back of the night club. He was holding an umbrella for Mooney while she beat the shit out of some poor shmuck. I was too far away to hear what it was about. But after Mooney left I watched as a giant handed Oswald the bat. His lip twitched into what might have been a smile. After a few gentle hits, Oswald began whacking the guy without control. I could have sworn his eyes gleamed in excitement.

As fate would have it, I ran into him on his way home from work that night. He was shuffling along a poorly lit street, looking suspicious. "Hello, Oswald."

He started. I guess I had been walking quieter than I had meant to be. "Oh, hello. I am afraid I didn't catch your name last night."

"You can call me Lizzie." Although Lizzie isn't my name, it wasn't a lie because I never claimed that it was. "I saw you beat the living snot out of that guy earlier." He seemed fucked up enough to not care about stalking. "Ever actually kill a man?"

"Why would you ask that?" His eyes narrowed and his voice rose, giving him the illusion of innocence.

I grinned mischievously. "I think you'd like it." I didn't kill for pleasure, not that I didn't like it, but I was good at it and my parents taught me to never do something I was good at for free.

"Well, this is me." He stopped in front of a dingy apartment building. "Goodnight, Lizzie."

"Aw, you're not coming home with me," I teased. I owned several properties throughout the world, none of them truly home and most of them a secret. I wouldn't take him to a place that could be traced back to me, just a tiny apartment furnished minimally to keep up the pretense of a living space, it was almost reminiscent of a flop house. "Can't handle me two nights in a row?"

Anger flashed across his face and he threw me against the front of his building. His forearm was across my throat and his face only inches from mine. I grinned, dangerously, thoroughly turned on.

"You like that?" He asked, surprised.

"God, yes," I breathed.

"Where do you live?"

"Two blocks," I motioned in the direction we were walking. "You wanna go?"

I took him home to the apartment where he pinned me down and fucked me. We went nearly all night and in the morning I couldn't walk right. We lay curled up together on the mattress, my head on his bare chest long after the sun had risen. "Do you want breakfast?" I asked awkwardly, I usually didn't spend the whole night.

"I have to go see Mooney," he shook his head.

I batted my eyelashes at him. "Am I not important enough?"

Oswald looked at me and stroked my cheek. "You are the most important thing to me, darling, but Mooney could kill me."

"I could kill you." I nipped at his nose.

"I know." He moved our position so he was back on top of me. "But Mooney actually would." He put my legs around his waist and began the night's activities all over again.

I had caught the bug. I never thought I needed anybody else, but now I had someone who understood me. He needed violence just as much as I did and I was addicted to him. When he was not with Mooney, he was with me. Oswald didn't talk much about his family or his past, but then again I never talked about myself at all.

And then I had to leave for a job. Oswald never asked what I did; he knew I killed, but I didn't think he knew what a renowned assassin I was. "I'm going to be out of town for a few days," I told Oswald.

"You're leaving me," his face dropped.

"Only for a few days." I kissed him, but he didn't kiss back. "I'll be back before you know it."

Oswald rolled his eyes at me. "Good luck, don't get yourself killed."

I didn't understand where his hostility was coming from. He knew I worked out of town jobs. I wasn't about to shit where I ate, as the saying goes. "Same to you, Oswald."

I returned to Gotham a week later, which was later than I had promised. I found my Oswald once again by lurking through the alleyways which were quite ample in the city. A man was dragging him along, but Oswald took a switchblade and killed the man to free himself. I had to admit it was pretty hot how into Oswald was. The man had to be dead, although he was still bleeding and took this as my cue to approach Oswald. I meant to ask him what that was all about, how he had been, instead I grabbed the upturned yellow collar of the polo shirt he was wearing. It was layered underneath a grey sweater; he looked like a wannabe prep school jock. "What are you wearing?" I asked.

He smirked. "It was all he had."

It was a vague comment, but I knew he had killed someone else. I took his hand and followed as he walked to a food truck across the way. He had stolen all the cash off of his victim. "Are you going to tell me what you've been up to?"

Oswald beamed with pride. "I'm supposed to be dead, but I've killed three others. These two guys picked me up as a hitchhiker. Jim Gordon was supposed to kill me, you see. I was a disheveled mess. They picked me up, but then they called me Penguin. I stabbed one in the throat with a broken beer bottle. I saved the other so I could hold him for ransom, but his mother wouldn't pay for him. The poor lady, he must have been such a trouble maker. If I would be getting any money, then he was just wasting my time. I had to kill him, too."

"That's my boy." I kissed him on the cheek. "Why don't you like being called Penguin, though? You're adorable, Oswald, and I love penguins."

"Y-you do? Maybe it's not that bad of a name."

I giggled. "My Penguin is a killer."

Oswald grinned, pleased with himself.


	2. Chapter 2

*I just wanted to note that this Oswald Cobblepot is based on only information provided through the TV series Gotham, I'm not digging into what is cannon in the comics.

It turns out Oswald was looking for a new job in the crime syndicate field, but it would have to be on new turf. Oswald Cobblepot is dead; shot and dumped in the river.

"Do you know how much I cost? You don't need a job," I told him, and it was true. I was the best so I could quote exorbitant fees and still be hired.

"It is not about the money," he attempted to explain. "It is about the power."

I still didn't understand why he needed to find employment in a menial job. "I'll kill whoever you want. That'll give you status."

Oswald let out a soft chuckle. "That is a good way to inspire fear, but I need respect as well."

He was hired as a dishwasher at an Italian restaurant in Maroni's district. He had to boas to me about how he killed yet another man for the job, but said no more other than that he was going by the name Paulo.

I returned from running errands and found Oswald in the apartment. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. His legs were crossed and he had been biting his nails, staring at the door I had just walked through. He wore a new suit, but despite his pristine appearance, looked agitated. "Where have you been?"

I flicked the light switch on and plopped down on the velvet sofa next to the chair he was occupying, noticing he looked even more washed out than usual. "Groceries," I answered carefully. "Why are you here?"

"I have been promoted to restaurant manager and Darling, we're going on a proper date. Make sure you're not doing anything Friday." He picked up the pink box that had been sitting on the table in front of him. "I just need to take care of something first."

I liked him bossing me around when he was usually so meek outside of the bedroom. "Congratulations," I called after him as he left, wondering how the hell he managed to receive such a big promotion in only a few days. It shouldn't have surprised me, Oswald was a pro at manipulation and being cunning. I just didn't know how deep his scheming went. Instead of putting away the food I had purchased, I opened a box of cookies without leaving the couch.

The apartment was musty and dark even with the lights on. I had been living there for two months- it was time to move. I didn't want to leave Gotham, though, I was having too much fun with Oswald. It would have to find a new property within the city limits- commuting created routine; something I avidly avoid.

Oswald came by again Friday at 7. He had a black eye and a cut on his cheek that was still hearing. When I asked him about it, he said it happened the other day and not to worry about it. We got out of the cab two blocks from the restaurant because I had commented on how nice the weather was. It was cold and you couldn't see the stars because of light pollution. It smelled like a dirty city; not winter. It was beautiful. Oswald put his jacket over my shoulders and held my hand as he slowly waddled along.

"Paulo! Penguin!" a jovial man called from down the street. As he approached I recognized him as Don Maroni. "My, my, who is this lovely lady?" he kissed the top of my hand.

"Lysa," I rattled off another one of my aliases. They all had the same initials, LT; Lizzie Thorn, Lysa Tate. It was a tactic I borrowed from undercover CIA agents. I couldn't very well be Lizzie- Lizzie was with Oswald and this was Paulo.

"We were just on our way to dinner," Paulo explained.

"Oh, wonderful! You can join me and my wife." Maroni walked with us to his restaurant and I tried to look enthused.

Maroni now knew my face and although he didn't know it belonged to me, he could still recognize it on someone else, somewhere else. I shot Oswald a look of complete distain.

Oswald leaned over a kissed my cheek. "Please, just do this for me."

Of course, I didn't say anything. I didn't want to get him killed, but I was pissed as hell.

They sat us at a corner booth in the back of the restaurant. I quickly took the corner seat of that booth where I could see the whole restaurant and noticed Maroni trying to not look upset. He was a gentleman though and didn't tell me to move. Growing up I had always fought hard for the seat where my back wouldn't be exposed. My mother always told me it was the Italian in me, I guess it actually is a cultural trait.

"You've got some serious balls bringing me into that!" I shouted at Oswald on the way home.

"Darling, I didn't know he would be there."

I issued a sarcastic laugh. "You're a fucking mastermind and I don't mind helping you on your way to criminal stardom, but don't you dare use me like one of your pawns! If you're taking me out just to look good and schmooze, then let me know, but don't pretend it's because you care about me." I immediately stopped speaking and bit my lip, shocked by all I had said. This wasn't like me, perhaps I did have one glass of wine too many.

"You want honesty from me?" Oswald gave me his pathetic and innocent look; the one that I fell for every time. "I do care about you and I didn't plan to rendezvous with Maroni, but I was hoping to run into him. I wanted to look normal and I wanted to look successful." He put his hand on my knee and gently began running it up my thigh. I let him lean in and kiss my neck, also very gently.

The cab stopped in front of my building, we paid, and I dragged him up to my apartment, nearly ripping off his suit in the process.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up while it was still dark outside. My arms were around Oswald's neck and my wrists were still bound together. His arms were around my torso and our legs were intertwined. I pressed my lips to his and he began kissing me back without opening his eyes. When I pulled away, he didn't pursue me and I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck. After a moment, I slipped my arms over his head and rolled out of bed. I had somewhere to be.

The air was still and I had my mission lined up perfectly in my scope, but I noticed a red dot on his shirt that did not belong to me. I raised the scope to the roof of the building across from me and noticed a sniper with dark hair peering through a scope of his own. He hadn't noticed me; I fired a warning shot passed his ear. He looked up and I noticed the eye he was using to aim was covered with an eye patch and a red robot eye sat on top of it; it was Deadshot. I waved and returned to my mission. In less than a minute; a bullet soared through the front of his head and another through the back. Deadshot had fired as well. I looked up and saw he was making his way towards me with his gun on his back. I held my ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled.

"Making money; same as you, Deadshot."

His eye narrowed. "You think it matters that you know who I am? Everyone knows who you are."

"Yeah, but I'm a fucking legend," I smirked and tumbled off the two-story building, disappearing into the crowd.

It had been several days when I returned to Gotham and I sought out Oswald at the restaurant. "You've been gone a while," he commented with malice.

"I'm sorry, I had somewhere I needed to be. What's wrong? You know I disappear, but I always come back."

"You've known who I am this whole time and all I have gotten from you is Lizzie, which isn't even true. That is what's wrong."

I laughed. "Really? Kapelput? I pronounced his name with the proper Eastern European accent."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Oswald seethed.

"It means you're ashamed of your heritage! You don't want to be an immigrant; you're so obsessed with power that you Anglicized your name and sound like you learned English by imitating the upper-class from 30's movies." I didn't want to be cruel, but even without his appearance, his speech patterns made him stand out like a sore thumb.

"I am more of an Oswald than you are a Lizzie. Who are you really?"

I sighed. "Miranda Saturn; they call me the Devil's Darling."

He laughed darkly and covered his grin with his hand. "You know, I- I've heard about you."

"Then you know why I can't exist. You know that I make sure not to," I lowered my voice, trying to sound gentle.

"It's not about that. You did not trust me."

"It's nothing personal. No one can know where to find the Devil's Darling, let alone who she is. You know now, alright, Penguin?"

Oswald's eyes went blank, cold and devoid of emotion. "Don't. Call. Me. That." He backed me against the wall.

"Are you gonna kill me or fuck me?"

He slammed his fist into the wall beside my head. "Perhaps both." Instead, he backed away and looked down, refusing to make eye contact. "Just leave."

Without another word, I turned and left, walking against the Gotham wind. It was time to buy that new apartment.

I placed a gun to the back of Oswald's head, pressing into his black, stringy hair. It had been a week since I had last spoken to him. "I need you to leave Gotham for two, three days tops." Oswald turned around and I moved the muzzle of the gun in line with his temple. "I'm trying to protect you as well as me." It was no use pretending I wasn't concerned about myself; I've always been my number one priority. I dropped the gun and shoved it, butt first, into his chest where his hands caught it. "Just take this and go."

With a smirk, he turned the gun on me and held in underneath my chin. "Why should I?"

"Well, fine. Stay if you like being tortured," I shrugged.

"Screw you, Darling." I put the gun in the back of his waistband, underneath his jacket and limped off quickly.

Deadshot stood on a corner, reading the street signs, not even bothering to hide himself. Glad in Gotham this wouldn't be questioned, I approached him from behind and took him down. He fought, but I was able to get him in a headlock with my thighs. "What do you want?" I growled.

"Aren't you curious how I found you?" he taunted.

"It doesn't matter. Because if you come after me again; you'll be dead."

He decided to answer my question. "I want to prove that the Devil's Darling isn't a legend. She's just another woman."

I took out a knife and flicked it open next to his ear so he would hear it. "Oh that's not true. I am so much more. Now you're handsome and there is a shortage of beautiful people in this world. But if you ever come after me again, I will not only kill you, but disfigure you beyond recognition," I explained as sweetly as I could. Then, in a swift motion, I released him and stuck the knife in his abdomen. "If you can make it to the hospital in about, say, seven minutes, you won't bleed out."

As I watched Deadshot leave on a train, I saw Oswald arrive. "You've got some blood." He licked his thumb and rubbed my cheek.

I looked at my red hands; I must have unknowingly touched my face.

"There," he said when the mark was gone. "I think you ought to meet my mother."

I let out a harsh laugh. "I don't do parents. And I definitely don't do crazy-conservative mothers."

"She just wants what's best for me." We walked outside together into the grayness of Gotham.

"Does she even know you're alive?"

Oswald tried to straighten up as he did when he wanted someone to take him seriously. "Yes, I went to see her when we were-ah- not conversing."

I could only imagine how that went. Oswald explaining his fake death; his mother accusing him of succumbing to a whore and then doting on him like he can't even wipe his own ass. What the hell had I gotten myself into?


	4. Chapter 4

I sat in the shoulder-deep water of the tub, my knees pulled up to my chin. I sat hunched over, tired and bored. Lately, all I could feel was ennui. Oswald knelt next to me, his three piece suit abandoned and the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled up to his elbows. He gently washed my back with a soapy cloth. He had insisted in his silky sweet manner and I, of course, let him. Oswald held a towel for me as I lifted myself out of the tub and wrapped it around me. The cold air came as a shock after being completely submerged.

"Darling, why don't you just tell people who you are?" he asked curiously. "The people will part for you like the Red Sea when you're walking down the street."

"You just want people to stop beating you up," I replied.

He grinned, knowing that I had correctly called him out. "It's a win-win situation."

"I'm not going to reveal myself unless I know it will further my career and reputation," I told him as I dried myself off. "You're not at the top of the food chain, honey, you can't protect me. You're a snitch and they all know it. They'll look to the prince to replace the king, not the jester. And I'm sure you're five steps ahead in the chess game, but so far the white set is only missing pawns." I tossed the towel playfully at him. "Sorry, but you're not the only one with a strategy"

"You should not disrespect me like that." Oswald followed me into the other room where I had already changed into an oversized tshirt.

I walked up to him and kissed his lips, eliciting no reaction. He was twitching, trying not to kill me.

"I enjoy you, Oswald, but I like myself too much to change my attitude." I climbed into bed and laid on my side with my back towards Oswald. After some rustling he climbed into bed with me. His arm wrapped around my waist and his bare legs intertwined with mine.

"I'm still going to tell Mother about us."

I sighed out of relief when he wasn't there when I woke up. It was our routine to leave the other one still sleeping. I hoped he hadn't gone to see his mother, but now I didn't have to worry about him finding out that I was going to visit a cop.

I opened the door to a silent apartment. Jim Gordon was standing in a defensive position, gun pointed at someone I couldn't see, but I surmised he worked for Falcone. I drew my own gun and rounded the corner. "Well, this is awkward," I announced myself. There were two men, startled by my sudden and casual appearance and a terrified Barbara sitting on the couch. "Want me to kill them, Uncle?"

"What? No!" He responded, startled by the inquisition. "I've got this. I don't want any deaths in my home."

"Suit yourself," I shrugged.

He was correct, he was able to handle the situation himself and, much to my disappointment, no one died.

"What are you doing here?" He asked when all was said and done.

"Georgia's dead. I thought you should know because Zach clearly wasn't going to."

Jim remained guarded, refusing to offer me a seat. "You seem real broken up about it. She was your mother."

"She might have given birth to me, but we both know that she was not my mother, nor Zach a father." I noticed how upset Jim looked and some part of me knew it was because she was his sister although they hadn't spoken in years. The appropriate thing to do would have been to comfort him, but there was no point in keeping up a normal façade. My family knew I was a monster since I was five and killed the cat. "I'll be going then."

"I'll show you out." Barbara spoke for the first time during the exchange as she rose from the couch.

"Thanks for not killing Oswald," I called over my shoulder on my way out the door to a Jim who sat with his face in his hands.

My superior sleuthing skills taught me that Falcone and Maroni were involved in a battle over Oswald and that they could be found at the docks. The last time Oswald was there, his death was being faked.

"Eh, where do you think you're going, toots?" A greasy man pushed me away when I tried to get near to the water.

In a swift motion, I disarmed him and placed the gun to his head. "Walk," I commanded. He did and when we reached the two parties, I shot him in the head. Everyone jumped and all the cronies pulled out their guns, aimed towards me. "Whose was he?" I asked.

Falcone raised his hand.

I turned my gun to run of Maroni's men and shot him dead was well. "I didn't want you to think I was taking sides," I explained.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Maroni demanded, complete with Italian hand gestures.

Oswald moved over to me from Maroni's side to protect me with his umbrella from the drizzle. He stood next to me underneath the black shield. "I am in no way leaving you, sir," he made sure to say to Maroni. "I just don't want the lady to get wet."

"Sure, but who the fuck is she?"'

Falcone cleared his throat, drawing the attention back to him. "She's the Devil's Darling," he explained. He had hired me on out of town jobs before.

I wasn't paying much attention, though. I had noticed scratches on Oswald's cheek. I grabbed his face to examine the damage. "Why is it I always find you in worse condition than I have left you?" I asked more to myself than him. "You better not be debating this man's life," I called over to the Don's. "because he is under my protection."

"Of course not, Miss," Falcone assured me. "We were just working out a property trade."

"Out of the car." I held a knife to a driver outside of Wayne Tower. He was waiting for his employer, but I didn't know nor care who that was. The man obliged, taking off his cap like a polite gentleman in the process. I slit his throat anyway because I didn't want him chasing after me. By now the rain had stopped, but the air was still damp. I drove ten blocks and parked outside of the restaurant Oswald technically managed. It wasn't a minute before he was in the passenger's seat and I was driving to the edge of the city; towards Falcone's home.

"I won't be but a minute." He kissed my cheek and exited the car, umbrella first. He was true to his word and did not keep my waiting long. "Thank you, sincerely."

I shook my head. "I was wrong. You're twenty moves ahead, but that only makes me wonder if you'll sacrifice me to save your queen."

He laughed at that; a loud, barking laugh, that I had never heard before. "Darling, on my chess board you are the Queen."


	5. Chapter 5

*Sorry this is a bit of a shorter one. It's more of a filler than anything else.

**I would love to hear some overall feedback from you guys as well, thanks :)

When I was five my mother brought home a cat. He was a Calico cat and I named him Max, although now I can't remember why. We got along famously. He would bring me mice that wriggled while I held them. I found out that the harder I squeezed; the harder they struggled, until they just finally stopped. I took to holding them under water to see if it had the same effect.

When I was eleven our science book had detailed pictures of human insides, beautifully done with bright colors. I cut Max open after school to compare; he was only red.

I never told anyone, I just left him there in the backyard. After that my mom started treating me differently, although she never asked or even hinted that I had killed the cat, but she began tiptoeing around me.

"Melissa, are you even listening to me?" Oswald asked, leaning on his umbrella, leering at me.

"Hm? Yeah, you're apologizing for nothing."

He sniffed. "You shouldn't be so blasé. I'm trying to make this right."

"There's nothing wrong! I was trying to seduce you that night we met. Besides, you don't sound very sincere in anything you say."

Had I known it wasn't normal to experiment on animals, I would have hidden it. I would have pretended to be normal so I wouldn't have been ostracized by my family.

It took my dad longer to notice my abnormalities. He still brought me to Bring Your Child to Work Day when I was in high school. He was an accountant, what I thought, and still think, is the most boring job on the planet.

"Why do you do this?" I asked him. "Sit here and count?"

"Because I'm good at it," he told me. "And when you're good at something, never do it for free."

It was sound advice, but for the most part my parents were idiots. They succumbed to love and it ruined them.

"I feel that I could have done this more romantically," Oswald continued. "I have never had a girlfriend before; never been with a girl before you."

I awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, still distracted for a reason I could not quite grasp. "Don't worry about it, Penguin." Then I noticed his bandaged hand. "I really didn't want to make good on that threat," I sighed.

"And you will not need to. That's where we're headed now; I am taking care of it."

I crinkled my forehead and followed Oswald down the street, wondering how long I had zoned out for.

"Apple?" Oswald asked and he cut a piece of fruit and ate it off the knife.

I nodded and he tossed me one from the table which I caught and began eating as Oswald's men tied up Mooney's lackey.

He seemed to be a complete different person than when he normally worked. His demeanor changed entirely now that he was in charge and not schmoozing someone else. There was no stuttering, no hunched posture; his eyes were not flitting about, but stared that man down. This was the Oswald I liked. This was the Oswald that I planned to stay with; he would be powerful and I could relax and look pretty on his arm. I smiled at him and he grinned back, pleased with himself. I was pleased with myself; once he took control of Gotham, I would never have to lift another finger.

"Whose woods these are, I think I know. His house is in the village, though. He will not see me stopping here, to watch his woods fill up with snow." The poem had perfect rhythm; it was the first I had ever memorized. I muttered it to myself now, as I walked in the rain. "Oh, I'm sorry!" I cried, getting the attention of the man I just ran into.

He held my arms, steadying me. "It's perfectly alright, miss."

"Mr. Bullock!" I exclaimed. "I was just on my way to the precinct to look for you."

"I'm sorry, do we know we each other?"

I looked at my feet and then back at him; a display of naivety or modesty. "No, not really. I'm Jim Gordon's niece, Melissa."

Harvey chuckled. "He never mentioned any family."

"Well, my parents and him… they… don't really…"

"I understand. I won't mentioned that you came by," he said. "What can I do for you?"

I did my best impression of concerned and worried. "I heard about Falcone and I, well, I just wanted to make sure…" I understood why Oswald stuttered.

"We're fine. Don't you worry, darling. You're Uncle Jim is a tough guy."

A smile of relief. "Thank you. Goodnight, Mr. Bullock."

"Goodnight, darling. You be careful now."

The rain had let up and the dark of the city embraced me as I walked home. "I have promises to keep," I said. "And miles to go before I sleep." Damn, right I had miles to go, but at least this game was a fun one.


	6. Chapter 6

For once it was sunny in Gotham. The sun had fought and broken its way through the clouds, ridding us of the constant grey sky. I sat outside one of the dozens of cafés in the city with Oswald, drinking coffee and scribbling in a notebook. "Pathetic," I commented on a couple at the table behind us, where a boy was breaking up with a girl, turning her into a faucet.

Oswald turned around to look at them.

"Attachments are weaknesses. Why would you build your life around another person? It's illogical to care that much."

"I care about you," Oswald muttered.

I looked up from my notebook. Perhaps I was wrong to assume we were both only a means to an end. "So if you knew that you could take out Falcone and take over without opposition and you had a knife to Falcone's throat, but one other person still supported him and they were holding a knife to me, and there was no way that you could save me and kill Falcone- would you drop the knife or kill us both?"

"I'd drop the knife," Oswald answered without hesitation.

I pointed accusingly at him. "Weakness."

Surprisingly, Oswald chuckled and I had to ask him what was so funny. "The other day I had to remove an obstacle and I told him that if you knew what a man loved, you could kill him. In his case it was money."

Down the street, I spotted Detective Harvey Bullock. "Shit. It's Harvey. Scram," I interrupted Oswald.

He picked up his coffee and shuffled over to the next table without a complaint. He wanted something from me, or I would have gotten a sarcastic response.

Harvey tipped his hat as he passed and asked how I was. I responded with the proper formalities.

"That was it?" Oswald rejoined my table and placed a gift-wrapped box in front of me.

"If he saw me with you, I would lose any credibility I had with him- what's this?"

Oswald raised his eyebrows. "I've been trying to give it to you for the past half-hour. It's just a little something I thought you would like."

I tore off the paper and opened the box. Inside was a cream colored, cashmere scarf. I took it out and wrapped it around my neck; it smelled of lilacs. "You stole this," I grinned.

"I was hoping you would wear it to dinner with Mother tonight," he ignored my original comment.

Immediately, I took the scarf off. "No."

At 7 o'clock I stood outside of the Kapleput apartment, dressed in a conservative dress and wearing my new scarf. I am not quite sure how I got there, but I assume it was filled with threats and sexual innuendos from Oswald. I reached out to bang on the door, but ended up just gently tapping on the wood. Miss Havisham opened the door. "You must be Elizabeth!" She greeted me with a thick accent. "Come in!"

I took off my jacket and hunt it on the coat rack next to the door. The apartment was dark and overcrowded with expensive, but antique looking knick-knacks. Several ornate cages held exotic looking birds.

"My Oswald has never had a girlfriend before," Mrs. Kapleput told me. "I think his peers found him odd; with all of his birds and all."

Oswald had never told me he liked birds.

"Mother!" Oswald came in from the other room, blushing, intending to interrupt his mother before she could get to the really embarrassing facts. I, on the other hand, was too busy having high school flashbacks.

It became even more uncomfortable when we actually had food in front of us. Mrs. Kapleput tore me apart and I received no defense from her son.

"Oswald tells me you're a diplomat," she said.

That was one way to put it. "Yes, I am."

"Hmph. How do you expect to take care of Oswald with a job like that. A good wife stays home to look after her husband and children."

Oswald was a fully grown man who could take care of himself. Marriage and children weren't even in the equation. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," I responded not wanting to upset her in front of Oswald.

After the meal, I awkwardly said my goodbyes and Mrs. Kapleput pulled me in for a hug. "You leave my son alone. Whores like you are nothing, but trouble," she hissed.

I didn't respond. She was hindering my relationship with Oswald and would have to be removed. Once I was sure Oswald would not seek revenge on me for her death; I planned to kill her.

My greatest strength is that I am efficient. In and out before anyone knew I was there; a body being the only evidence that I exist at all. This man turned around and started when I was only inches away from him. Without a word, I slipped out my knife and stuck it through his head from the underside of his chin. I removed it and his shell crumpled to the floor. In only a couple minutes, I left the building without notice of the security guards. It was so easy to kill important people, they always worked late.

When I was just another civilian on the street, I checked my cell phone to see that I had ten missed calls; all from Oswald. Immediately, I hit redial. "What's up, Penguin?" I asked when he answered the call.

"Hello, Darling, one minute," he greeted me, happier than I thought he would be after ten unanswered calls. "Now what did I ask of you?" he questioned someone on his end of the line and it was followed by a grunt of pain.

"Who do you have there?" I asked.

"Just business," he replied. "I am assuming that is where you are because I have been unable to get a hold of you." A pause. "I wished to apologize for Mother the other night."

I wished he could see the exasperated look on my face. "You realize that you are a grown man, capable of taking care of yourself, right? Because I'm convinced your mother thinks you are five."

"She did not mean what she said. She is only looking out for me," he tried to explain.

"I don't want to talk about this, Oswald."

I heard him click is tongue. "It is rude not to accept an apology."

"I'll be home in two days; you can kill me then." I wondered if he ever would if I kept inviting him to do it, but I believed he was too smart to try. He valued his own life too much.


	7. Chapter 7

I walked into the GCPD precinct, looking for my uncle. No one paid me any mind nor asked who I was as I wandered around the bullpen, looking for Jim's desk. It was dark in the precinct, and loud like a school cafeteria; about a hundred different conversations going on at once. After several minutes of pointless meandering, Harvey Bullock called to me from a platform that overlooked nearly the whole precinct.

"Is Jim here?" I asked.

"He just stepped out for a moment, darlin'. That's his desk, if you want to wait." He motioned to the nearly empty desk across from where he was stationed.

I set myself down in the desk chair and swung my legs over the arm on the side of it.

"What are you doing here?" I heard Jim's voice from behind me.

"I heard you got demoted, but I knew it'd be impossible for someone to take your shield."

"You heard right. Now, if you don't move, I'll never get it back."

I sighed and stood up, relinquishing his chair back to him. Jim sat down and immediately began looking through a file, thoroughly ignoring me. "You haven't been home."

I was about to be reprimanded for snooping, but a cop ran over to Harvey. I couldn't tell what he whispered, but the tone was that of an emergency. It took only a nod from his partner for Jim to jump up and grab his coat. "Stay here," he ordered.

"Aye aye, cap'n." I muttered and slid back into his seat, feet on the desk. I was still a rebellious teen at heart sometimes. I wanted to know what was going on, but after a moment I realized Jim's orders could actually help me; the police are the hub of information.

There was a weird forensics guy who stayed behind; Ed. He answered any question I had about ongoing investigations as long as I answered his riddles. We played question for question until the detectives got back. They arrived with Maroni in tow along with one of his cronies who was carrying a small, unconscious man over his shoulder. Maroni picked out his spot and his henchman unceremoniously threw the man he was carrying onto a nearby desk. The man remained unconscious. His face was bruised and carried several scrapes; I noticed right away it was the Penguin. His spikey hair had been amplified and his body was limp, but his suit was still impeccable. I did not dare to go over to him and see if he was alright.

"Oh my god! Is he alright?"

"He's just been electrocuted," Harvey explained, making sure I wasn't too shocked. "He'll wake up soon."

Jim cleared his throat. "You're a civilian, perhaps you should leave."

I looked up at him innocently. "There's no safer place than here, and we still haven't discussed why I'm here in the first place."

He threw up his arms in surrender. "Fine, what's this about?"

"Well, I'm worried. Your place is all but abandoned." But then I noticed, Oswald sitting up and Maroni had dismissed the crowd that had gathered to hear his stories. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but based on body language, I knew he was begging.

"Yeah, Barbara left," Jim explained, but I barely heard him.

I was watching the scene down in the bullpen. Maroni had dismissed Oswald and he was limping towards the door. Then I felt a jolt, and a tingling that went up by body. Everything turned black.

My eyes fluttered open. Everything hurt; I couldn't move my arms. The lights are bright, by the room is dark and cold. _Where am I?_ I started to panic. Barely, I lifted my head and saw bodies around me also struggling to regain consciousness.

The precinct.

I was at the precinct.

Oswald was in trouble.

Chaos followed. The man who electrocuted everyone was being arrested, and EMTs were attempting to see to the entire police department. Apparently, Jim never passed out. By the time I was able to get to the door, Oswald and Maroni had gone. I hated being without information. I didn't know where Oswald had went and he's half the reason I knew anything that was going on in this town.

It had begun raining, so I pulled up the hood on my jacket and continued walking. By the time I got to my apartment I was soaked through. I had wanted to go to Oswald's place, if he had one. Instead, he pathetically lived with his mother.

I woke up to angry banging on my door. Through the peephole, I saw Oswald, still in this three-piece suit. In my boxers and tshirt, completely braless, I opened the door. "I'm glad you're alright," I smiled.

"Really?" he pushed his way into the apartment. "Maroni said you were at the precinct. I was in distress. I was dying and my girlfriend didn't even bother to see me!" He advanced, closing the space between us until I could feel his breath.

"I asked Harvey and he said you'd wake up any minute. And you did," I shrugged. "Honestly, Oswald, I don't know what you expect from me. I wasn't about to let the entire GCPD know that I'm involved with Maroni and the Penguin."

"I want some respect!" He screamed. "I want you to acknowledge that I care about you! I want you to respect us!"

I noticed a flash of metal in his hand. At some point he had opened a knife. I felt his hot breath on my neck as his chest heaved up and down. I had to admit I was kind of enjoying it. I gently grabbed his hand and placed the blade against my collar bone, but he made no move to use it. "I do like you Oswald, but you knew how I was when we got into this. So you know what you can do? You can get the fuck out of my apartment."

I missed judged. Instead of leaving, he pressed the blade deeper and slowly dragged it across my chest, drawing blood. I winced a little at the pain, but ended up grinning. Perhaps he had more of a backbone than I thought. I pushed his hand and knife away and crashed my lips into his. I heard the clattering of metal on the floor as he dropped the knife. His hand grasped my hips and pulled me into him. He was hard and it felt good to have him pressing against me.

"I love you," he breathed into my mouth as I began taking off his suit.

"Shut up and fuck me," I responded, although it meant just about the same thing.


	8. Chapter 8

He kissed down my neck and across my collar bone, down to my breast, stopping here and there to suck. Each kiss was timed perfectly with his thrusts and I clawed his back in ecstasy. I could not get enough of him; I could not get him close enough to me. Eventually, he threw his head back the way he does before he would cum and I grabbed his hips, pulling him closer so that he couldn't pull out. With a soft moan he came inside of me and I followed shortly after, but with a much louder gasp of pleasure. When he did pull out, I could feel the hot liquid running down my inner thigh. Oswald rolled off to the side of me; we were both drenched in sweat. It was so hot, the thought of touching him again sickened me.

"Open the window," I commanded.

Silently, he obeyed and then returned to lie next to me. The cold wind rushed inside, freezing my sweat to my skin. I shivered and Oswald moved closer, resting his head on my chest and putting his arm around my waist. I could hear his heart pounding even over the rushing cars down on the city street. Without thinking about it, I began petting his hair, stroking the back of his head. It didn't feel oily like mine did when I sweat, but was soft under my fingers.

When he disappeared that afternoon, I realized he was probably gloating, but I wasn't comfortable with him being alone, now that the world of organized crime was in an uproar. I wanted to marry into royalty which I couldn't do if Penguin was dead. I headed out in the direction of Fish's club. When I was a few feet away, I spotted a young, but bald man dressed in all black and flanked by three younger girls entering the club. _No,_ I thought, _it can't be._ "Victor!" I called anyway.

The man stopped and looked towards my voice. "Melissa," he smiled calmly. "You have strange timing."

"What's going on?" I continued to approach him. "I'm looking for Oswald."

He brushed my bangs off of my face. "I don't know about the Penguin, but we are going fishing if you wish to join."

I pulled out the gun that I kept in my waistband as a response. Zsasz entered first and I followed and the three girls came after us. Inside it was dim and empty except for the stage where Butch and Mooney had Oswald tied to a chair. For a second, I couldn't help but think it was odd to see him tied up, but as quickly as it came, it was gone and I was firing at Fish.

"Excuse me," Zsasz interrupted and claimed their attention. As soon as Butch turned around, he fired, but only enough to let Fish run before following her.

I knew a good girlfriend would let Victor go and help her boyfriend, but I wanted to deal out pain, not lessen it at the moment.

Victor had incapacitated Butch and I began climbing out the window-there was nowhere else Fish could have gone. "What are you doing?" he asked me.

"She needs to die." I landed with a thud on the pavement and ran down the alley, my feet tingling from the impact. But when I reached the street, I realized I had lost her. I let out a yell of frustration.

"Are you alright miss?" a man came up to me.

With all my anger, I hit him with the butt of my gun and he dropped to the sidewalk. I wanted him to get up; I wanted a fight, but he made no effort to stand back up. I began kicking and I didn't stop until I was tired and worn out. Then, I turned and went back through the front entrance of the club. Oswald had managed to untie himself, but Victor and his girls had left.

"Thank you so much for your help, darling," Oswald sneered.

I used the corner of my black sleeve dab up some of the blood on his white shirt. "You were perfectly safe." I gently kissed him.

"I don't like to be ignored."

"And I don't like to feel obligated," I sighed. I thought we had finally gotten to a place where we didn't argue. I picked up Oswald's hand and squeezed his fingers. "Can we just go home?"

He nodded and let me lead him out of the club. "I'm glad you came for me, darling, but I would like to know how you know Victor Zsasz."

The sun was going down, and while the sky was still orange, the sun itself was hidden by the tall buildings. I shivered a little, and silently reprimanded myself for not wearing a jacket. I lived in Gotham, the antithesis of Camelot. The walk home was a silent one; civilians were heading indoors and making sure to lock them.

Soon enough we, too, were inside with the door locked. I flicked the light switch on and Oswald was still looking at me expectantly. "Darling, please, Victor Zsasz is a dangerous man. Now tell me, how do you know him?"

"It was nothing romantic, if that's what you're worried about." I pulled out a bottle of wine and began to open it. "It was more of an 'I like your style' kind of thing.'" Oswald had sat down on the sofa without bothering to clean up the blood on his face. I handed him one of the glasses and sat down across the way. "I met him ten years ago.

"I had left Gotham for the first time; this was a few years before I was hired to kill. I was struggling, working odd jobs and I was beginning to get a taste for violence. I was in fights all the time. At first I sucked, but soon I learned how to turn an opponent's strength against him. Victor saw me fighting one night. It was the night I killed a boy. With a short kick, I knocked his feet out from under him and watched as he fell backwards. His back hit and then his head snapped back, I can still hear the crunch of his skull on the pavement. He did not get back up, but I never gave him the chance. I was on top of him, straddling his abdomen and pounding my fists into his face; right, left, right, left. His nose broke under my fist. So did his jaw, teeth left his mouth. I'm pretty sure I broke his face. Finally, someone pulled me off of him. It was Victor. 'Let's go.' He said to me. And I followed him without knowing who he was because I knew I had killed that boy and I was terrified I might be arrested. You have to understand, that was the first time I killed a person. Anyway, the point is, Victor took me in. He taught me control. For several years, we went on sprees in different cities, causing terror. Then he found his mission and I found mine; money."

"Are you telling me that Zsasz is the reason you are the way you are?" Oswald asked.

I shook my head. "No, I am the way I am because of brain chemistry and failed genetics. But I'm successful because of Victor." I had finished my glass of wine and stood to pour another. When I reached out to offer more to Oswald, he refused.

"I have to check on Mother," he explained.

"You won't stay the night?"

He stood and buttoned his own jacket. "Perhaps another night." He politely kissed my cheek.

"You could stay forever if you want!" I called when he had reached the door. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face me. "You could live here," I said again quietly. He probably knew I just didn't want to share him and if that meant sharing my home, it's a move I would make.


	9. Chapter 9

***I would like to apologize in advance for posting a short, filler chapter, but I think it's still kinda important for our protagonists anyway.

"Oswald! Pick up your damn phone!" It was the ninth time I had called him and it was the ninth time it had gone straight to voice mail. He had left ridiculously early in the morning without a word, but he normally always told me where he was. I went to dial his number again, but instead picked a different number.

"Hello," a smooth voice answered on the other end.

"Victor," I sighed in relief. At least somebody knew how voicemails worked.

In the background, I could hear a man screaming. "I always enjoy talking to you, but I am quite busy at the moment."

"Oswald's missing," I explained. "Do you know whom I should be killing?"

He clicked his tongue. "Last I heard he was with Maroni." A pause. "And Melissa, don't do anything I wouldn't do." He hung up.

It was terrible news. I couldn't kill Maroni; not yet. Gotham only operated because there was a balance. With no one to balance Falcone, the city would quickly fall into a dictatorship. Instead, I would have to wait and pray Oswald could talk his way out of any trouble he might find himself in.

I sat with my feet up on the dining room table, leaning back in my chair. I was cleaning out the dirt from under my nails with a switchblade when I heard a knock at the door. Waiting for me was a small, black piece of paper with "Oswald's" inscribed in white script on the front. "Glad to fucking know you're alive," I muttered under my breath. It had been days since I asked him to move in with me. In response, all I got was an invitation to the reopening of Fish Mooney's place. I decided I would go, even if it was just to stab the poor son of a bitch.

At 8 o'clock I was walking out the door of my apartment in a tight black dress, sky high heels, and a dagger strapped to my thigh. It was different walking down the Gotham streets after announcing myself as an assassin, just as Oswald said it would be. I felt empowered, even the riff-raff wouldn't mess with me; not seriously anyway.

"Where you goin', darlin'?" A couple men hollered.

"Oswald's," I replied with a grin. "They're reopening Fish's place." One wink, and I had a sizeable group following me down the city streets. The rain had held off so far and I had it hoped I would continue that way; I had deigned not to put on a jacket or bring an umbrella. My foot hit a crack in the sidewalk and I stumbled, surprised that my phone buzzed. PLEASE DON'T COME. A text from Oswald. _Too late, _asshole. I thought. _Maybe you should have called to let me know you were back in town. _I tucked my phone back in my bra as we arrived. It was a dingy, hole-in-the-wall type building and in the one window was a blue neon sign in the shape of an umbrella.

The inside of the club had been completely redone. The atmosphere was cooler, but there were only a handful of people, not including the band. I pulled the knife from under my dress, Maroni was there with an arm around Oswald and it didn't look friendly. I kicked the back of his knee and he went down, my knife at his throat. "Maybe you forgot what I told you earlier about not touching Oswald," I hissed. "So here's my new proposal: when Falcone goes, so do you." I removed my blade and allowed him to stand up. Without a word, he brushed off his suit and left.

"I thought I asked you not to come," Oswald blushed, clearly embarrassed by the turn out of his grand opening.

"Actually, you told me. No, you texted me," I corrected him.

He put down his glass of champagne and actually began wringing his hands. "Darling, I-I understand that you are upset with me. B-but I nearly died. Surely you can-"

"But you're not dead," I interrupted him. You had time to gut and rebuild this club, but not enough to call your girlfriend." I waved the knife in his face.

Oswald gripped my hand. "Why are you here?"

I yanked free. "Relax." I sheathed my weapon. "I brought people." As if on command, the underlings began filling up the space.

"What are these riff-raff doing here?" He whispered, only an inch from my face.

"Who cares? They're gonna buy drinks." And I kissed him. I didn't realize that his hands were on my hips. As we kissed they glided upwards and I suddenly didn't care that he had disappeared for a few days, I just wanted him to rip off my dress.

I stayed until last call, without stabbing anyone. Or causing any noticeable trouble for that matter. "I guess it turned out okay," Oswald said as he was locking up. "Can we go home now?"

I nodded and took his hand. He didn't need to know I was leaving in a few hours for a job across the Atlantic.


	10. Chapter 10

"You are not mad at me, then?" Oswald asked as he flicked on the apartment's lights.

"I am murderously angry at you," I told him. "But I'm also ridiculously horny."

All nervousness left his face. It was like a switch flipped inside of his mind and he became another person. "Good," he growled as he backed me against the wall.

His lips crashed into mine and I began tearing at his suit. His hips grinded against mine and I could feel how hard he was. I nipped at his lip and dragged him to the sofa where he lowered me on to my back. The bedroom was too far and he could not carry me with his limp. His mouth lingered on mine as he began rubbing my clit. When I moaned, he slid my panties off which had already become wet. He kissed my lips first, and then the lips between my thighs. My fingers knotted in his hair and moaned.

"Oswald," I sighed as I came.

He came up for air and with all his strength picked me up and threw me on the table. He undid his own pants, standing over me. He placed his hand on my throat and began squeezing as he put himself inside of me. I screamed and he fucked me harder, simultaneously closing off my airways. He pulled out as he came, spilling his semen onto my abdomen. I wiped it off, slowly, with my fingers and he watched as I licked the warm, sticky liquid off my fingers.

"Oh God," I giggled. "I think I need a shower."

Oswald grinned and helped me to stand up. He was gentle with me when he joined me under the steaming hot water. I laughed at how funny his hair looked _without_ the cowlick and slept in his arms for two hours.

The job was easy. I was back in the states in 48 hours. The first stop I made was Oswald's. I still wore my black long sleeve tee, black cargo pants, and combat boots and was armed to the teeth. I would stand out like a sore thumb at a night club, especially in the middle of the afternoon. I didn't bother going home first because I knew that's where Oswald would be and I wanted to know what had been happening in Gotham.

Even during the day, the club was dimly lit. I stood in a corner, hidden by the shadows as I watched the scene beginning to unfold in front of me. Aside from the players and the bartender, there were about three others in the club.

Butch stood facing me and a terrified Oswald was torn between hiding behind Victor Zsasz and trying to get as far away from the both of them as possible.

"It's rude to laugh, Victor," I stepped out from my hiding place.

Hope flooded Oswald's eyes when he was I was there. Victor grinned apologetically. "Butch won't hurt you," he told Oswald. "In fact, he'll do exactly as you say."

"Really? Butch, dance!" Oswald commanded.

Butch did indeed obey his orders, obliging with an awkward sort of jig. Oswald giggled in delight and I applauded. "You certainly did a number on him; I'm impressed," I remarked.

"Thank you. Falcone said the Penguin needed help- his club is a disaster, and I had a perfect candidate in the basement," Victor responded.

Oswald had gone to inspect his new toy and I noticed Victory gently brush his fingers against his arm. It was where he kept track; I know because I helped mark some of them. It would have been nice to comfort him since he had wanted to save Butch or send him home or some bullshit. I don't know what he called it, but I killed people. Victor had even less feelings than I did, and he certainly did not touch other people so a hug would be out of line. The only way I knew he was my friend was that he liked me better alive.

"Arrrrrhhh!" Oswald punched a hole in the drywall of the apartment.

"What's got you all pissed off?" I asked as I sat on the sofa, causally sipping a glass of wine.

He poured himself a glass and plopped down next to me. "It's the club. I can't do anything right and Butch keeps showing me up! How am I supposed to retain leadership? How will anyone respect me?"

Patting his leg, I downed the rest of my wine. "I'll kill them." It was the best and simplest solution. It always was.

Oswald knit is eyebrows together and then nuzzled my neck. "My own hit woman?" he murmured and began nipping at me; his teeth on my throat.

I had taken to hanging around Oswald's since that was where he always seemed to be. I tilted back in my chair with my feet up on the table. "What the hell is that?" I asked as he pulled an oddly shaped green bottle out of the box he had just opened, but before he could answer, Jim and Harvey Bullock walked in. "We need daytime security," I muttered.

"Miss Gordon!" Harvey greeted with surprise.

I stood and looked at the three men in the room; I was torn. I wanted Oswald to climb whatever ladders he needed to, but I also didn't want to witness him helping cops. "I-I'll be in the back office." I resumed the same position at Oswald's desk. I wondered if Oswald had ever spent more than a day outside of Gotham, if he ever even left the state. A knock at the door. "Babe, have you ever been to Vegas?"

Oswald was caught off guard by the question. "No. Uh, no. I'm going to be gone for a couple days. Will you be here when I get back?"

I nodded. Maybe it'd be fun if Gotham got a serial killer. But maybe the cops would be too dumb to string together any series of murders.

In the streets, I paid special care to those who walked by me. A series of random stabbings? A type. That was what I needed. But what type: blonde female, alpha male, gingers? This was way too difficult. A supermodel type walked by me and she obviously didn't belong in Gotham. She wasn't blonde, so she wouldn't garner up as much media attention as I would have liked, but I didn't like her stuck-up expression. I had previously put my gloves on and now I pulled my knife out of my pocket. I didn't think much about it before I stuck it into her gut and kept walking. Several feet later after I had cleaned the blade, I dropped in a public trash can. It was a lot less planning than I was used to, the Penguin was having an effect on me.


	11. Chapter 11

When he got back to town, she was still my only kill. We sat at the bar in his club two frightened old people sitting respectfully in the booth across from us. The man was shaking, but the woman's fright was masked by determination. "Would you like to see a show?" Oswald whispered in my ear and I nodded, curious. I liked blood and violence, but Oswald was volatile and it excited him more than it did me. He told them that only one of them could get away.

"We're not splitting up!" the man protested, but his wife seemed to have other ideas.

"How would it be decided who goes?" she asked.

Oswald grinned. "I'll leave that up to you."

In a second, she rounded on her husband, beating him to the ground. She was ruthless, I loved her. As she strangled him, Oswald went behind the bar and brought out a shotgun.

"So when's this train?" she asked when her husband lay dead.

"Oh, there's no train," Oswald chuckled. "I just needed your help. I'm down to one shell." He shot her. "Care for dinner?" he asked me.

"What about the body?"

"I'll have Butch take care of it," he grinned and offered me his arm.

Two blocks back was lying another pretty girl in a pool of her own blood. As I wiped off the blade, I noticed a man limping towards me. I couldn't see much else other than his outline because the sun was in my eyes, but I knew right away it was Oswald. As the distance closed between us, I noticed he was dressed in fine, long dark coat with a red scarf. Quickly, I discarded the blade and smiled at him. "Oswald."

He kissed my cheek. "What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing," I lied.

Oswald pursed his lips, sensing my dishonestly. "Well, it's not like I have to remind you to be careful about it."

I rolled my eyes at him and he continued on his way, followed by Gabe, his muscle.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"Fuck off!" I called, but then thought twice and went to catch up with him. "Where are we going?"

We were going to a dive bar. A shit little bar that Oswald wanted to buy, but "Ms. Lidia" wasn't having it with her thick German accent. There was only one patron in the bar, but it was still early. I hoped it was because it was early and that Oswald wasn't throwing his money away in another failed venture.

"I'll make you a deal," Ms. Lidia told him. "My Antonia is beautiful, virtuous, an angel from heaven, but she has run off with a silver-tongued guitar player; Lucifer himself. You get her to come home and then, maybe, I'll consider your offer."

"Ms. Lidia, she'll be home for Sunday Mass, you have my word." Oswald grinned politely.

Gabe and I followed Oswald from the bar and back out into the rare sunlight. "Did your mom make you go to Sunday Mass?" I teased.

"Good German boys obey their mothers," he responded, ending the dialogue.

"So, boss," said Gabe. "How do we find this girl?"

"Her mother is a German immigrant and immigrants live in tight-knit communities. She probably had one best friend and she told her who she was sneaking around with. We find out who he is and we find Antonia," Oswald explained.

Gabe turned to me. "Well, you know everyone, right?"

I shook my head. "I know the players and every move they make, but a starry-eyed groupie? No fucking clue. Oswald is the brains here, he'll find him. I propose that I just go home until my real talents are needed."

"We found him," Oswald called. "Gabe has him in the club's basement. I'll meet you there."

I headed out immediately with only my knife.

I had never been in the basement and it reminded me of a warehouse. Half of it was storage, the other half was just unkempt, cemented space. I noticed a toolbox when I first walked in. It was covered in years of dust as was the table it was placed on. Gabe had chained the guitarist to a pole that held up the building structure. The musician was just a pathetic kid, but I was professional.

"Do you know why you're here?" I twirled my knife between my fingers.

"N-no," he choked on his own words.

"You're girlfriend, Antonia," I explained. "You're going to leave her."

"No, I love her!" he protested.

I laughed in his face. Pocketing the knife with my left hand, I swung with my right, hitting him in the gut. Twice. Then I attacked his face, relishing the sound of my fist hitting his flesh. "I'm trying to be nice about this. I figure, if I rough you up a bit, you might see things my way, but I'm not afraid to draw blood."

"You're crazy! Antonia and I are in love. This has nothing to do with you," he cried.

I brought the blade back out. "Have it your way then," I shrugged. "Do you think you'll be less handsome without a nose?"

I was interrupted by Oswald's arrival. "Are we in agreement?"

"I won't leave her. I love her!" continued the guitarist.

"True love," Gabe chuckled. "Should I loose a slug in him?"

"He's a guitar player, right?" spoke Oswald. "Loose his fingers."

"You want me to shoot his fingers?" asked a confused Gabe.

I had begun rifling through the toolbox. "No," I sighed and waved a pair of wire cutters. "He means, loose the fingers." The boy yelled and cried in protest as the metal touched the index finger of his right hand. I closed down at the base of his finger and the only thing louder than the sickening crunch of bone was his scream.

Oswald was admiring his new acquisition with Gabe dutifully in tow. I had agreed to meet him there before going out to dinner. "So she actually sold it to you?" I asked, incredulous as I walked in. "Her daughter is only going to run away again."

"Probably, but it's not my problem because I own this now."

"Why go through all that trouble for a pile of bricks?" Gabe asked.

"It was never about the money, Gabe," Oswald said as though it was obvious. "A lot of things motivate people: lust, envy, greed."

"So what motivates you?" I interjected. "What's so important about this place?"

Oswald took my face in his hands. "It's simple. This is where I'm going to kill Don Maroni," he said and kissed my nose.

I smiled at him and kissed him back. His hands moved to my waist and he pulled me in closer to him causing me to giggle as I threw my arms over his shoulders. I had completely forgotten about Gabe and where we were.


	12. Chapter 12

"Butch, what the fuck am I doing with that?" I swirled the bourbon in my glass and nodded towards Oswald. He was clutching his mother as they swayed in the middle of the club's dance floor. The singer was some swanky girl in a gold sequined dress with a slit up to her hip.

The large man laughed. "I've always wondered that myself."

I sneered at him and turned to look up at the balcony where a man named Conner was waiting to meet with the Penguin. "He spends all his time plotting Maroni's death or with her."

"Perhaps you ought to get rid of her."

I chuckled. "Yeah, right."

The next night, I was Oswald's date to the club. "Conner and his crew are on board," the Penguin told Butch, but his henchman shushed him.

"He's here," Butch warned. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't turn him away."

I put my hand on the back of Oswald's head and turned it to the left so he could see what I was watching. His mother was sitting next to Don Maroni at a booth. "Holy shit," I whistled.

With a huff, he gripped my hand and dragged me to their table.

"Is that my buddy?" Maroni called. "Oswald, come here."

"Oswald!" his mother echoed and it was obvious she had been drinking.

Maroni laughed. "There he is!"

"Mother, what are you doing?" Oswald hissed.

"Having a drink with mister Maroni." she held up her glass to show us.

"With Sal," Maroni corrected her.

"We shouldn't impose." Oswald reached for his mother's hand, but Maroni pulled her away from her son.

I grinned at Maroni. "Nonsense." I slid into the booth next to him and pulled out my switch blade, tapping it on his thigh. "The night is young."

"Sit, join us. Sit Oswald," Maroni commanded with a forced smile.

He sat down across from me, next to his mother. As he sat, he reached across the table and grabbed my hand, flaunting his actions to his mother.

"…now he's a respectable man of business, my Oswald," the old lady droned on, telling her son's life story.

"Well, this has been a delight, but it's late," Oswald tried to pull both of us women away.

"One thing, a question that has been bothering me," Maroni refused to let Oswald's mother go. "Is this an act? Are you just pretending he's only a night club owner or are you just that stupid?" he hissed at her.

"Stop!" Oswald shouted.

"Your son is a cold-blooded psychopath," the man continued. "I can't count how many people he's killed."

Gertrude cried out. I flicked my blade open and pointed at Maroni, resting my elbow on the table.

"He's a liar, Mother! He's just mad I played him for a fool," Oswald defended himself, hissing at the Don.

Maroni ignored him and ignored my knife. "When did you know? Did you catch him washing blood from his hands one night? When did you know you had given birth to a monster?"

I pressed harder and he gasped as I cut into his flesh.

Oswald held his mother, pressing her head to his chest protectively. "You will pay for this."

"Maybe," Maroni stood. "Or maybe it ends with me dumping your cold body into the river."

I stood with him. "I'll show you out."

"Place is looking good," Maroni grinned and followed me towards the club's entrance, trying not to limp.

I wiped the blood from my knife with my finger and then touched his nose. "I think you're forgetting who the real monster is here, Sal. Oswald is merely a pest compared to me. He killed a couple of your friends? I've killed dozens all over the world and laughed about it so you better watch what you say and to whom you say it."

Maroni nodded, but didn't move until I told him to leave.

Oswald limped up to me, still holding onto his mother. "I need to take her home," he said.

I grabbed our jackets from the coat room. "I'll walk with you." We put his over Gertrude's shoulders and I put on my own before stepping out into the night. I walked slightly ahead of the pair, keeping an eye out for any of Maroni's men.

At the apartment, Oswald sat his mother down in a winged armchair in the living room and she still didn't speak. I reached out and touched his cheek. "Call me, okay? Let me know?"

"I will," he interrupted.

Awkwardly, I kissed his cheek. He chuckled and kissed my lips. I was surprised he showed such affection in front of his mother whom I was sure was waiting to call me a harlot or painted lady.

"Call me," I said again and left. I took the stairs out of the building, all five flights, and exited onto the rainy street under the bridge. I had barely made it outside when I received a call from Oswald.

"Meet me out back."

I went around to the other side of the building and found him with the bloody body of an Asian man. There was a shard of glass sticking out of his throat and the once white shirt was starting to turn brown. "Are we throwing him in the river?" I asked.

Oswald nodded. "I can't carry him with my leg."

I bent down and slid my arms underneath the body and then pushed up with my legs. I was able to get him over my shoulder. The run down loft house was right on the water, close enough that the street smelled like fish. I didn't think there was a need to wrap the body because it was two in the morning. Even if anyone did see; immigrants lived here. My parents came to this country illegally too so I knew they would never speak to the cops. I looked at Oswald as we began walking, waiting for an explanation.

"Maroni sent flowers!" he finally caved. "He's a dead man!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "You killed a delivery boy because Maroni is putting the moves on your mother?"

"She asked me," he gasped. "She asked if I was a killer and I told her no. She said she'd love me no matter what, but I still lied to her. I lied to my own mother!" He was trying not to cry now. His face got all scrunched up.

I couldn't help but feel jealous that he had a family; that he had somebody that he was so close to. I dropped the body from my shoulder and watched it plunge into the river and then resurface. "You can cry, you know," I said as I watched the current take the body away.

Still, he didn't, not more than a tear or two. He didn't speak again either. When we reached the front door of the apartment building he kissed me again, roughly. I put my tongue between his lips and he pulled me closer. He ran his hands down my back until he reached my ass which he grabbed with one hand. I smiled and ran my own hand up the back of his neck, grabbing at his hair. He pulled at my lip with his teeth, but stopped and let go suddenly.

"I shouldn't leave her alone," he said. "I'll be home tomorrow night."

"If you're not, I'm going to start killing everyone who is keeping you from me."


	13. Chapter 13

Oswald was sitting in the living room, facing the door when I walked into the apartment. "Where have you been?" he asked.

Killing. "Out," I said as I walked to the kitchen to get something to drink.

He emerged from the darkness and trapped me between himself and the counter. "Liar," he hissed and pressed his lips to mine.

Startled, I pulled back. He kissed me again and forced himself between my legs. The kiss was not passionate, just simply rough. He pushed me along until we were in the bedroom where he threw me on the bed and crawled on top of me. He pulled my dress over my head as I clawed at his shirt. His kisses trailed down my neck and to my chest, stopping once in a while to bite and suck. Oswald's lips found their way between my thighs. I gasped in pleasure when I felt his tongue. I came. Oswald forced his lips onto mine and entered me. I moaned loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"Shut up," he ordered and he a hand to cover my mouth.

I bit back my next scream as he rammed himself into me over and over again. I peeled his hand away and grabbed onto his hips.

"Don't pull out," I gasped.

He came inside of me like I asked and then rested his head on my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to catch my breath.

"Did you finish?" He asked.

"Twice," I grinned.

A few moments of silence passed and I spoke up again. "Oswald?"

He didn't answer because he had fallen asleep. The only sound was a snore so light you would have thought it was from a puppy and not a man.

In the morning, I couldn't help but look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Across my chest were hickeys of various sizes along with teeth marks. _Looks like a collared shirt today,_ I thought and got dressed before making coffee. I returned to the bedroom with my mug and my shirt unbuttoned so he could see the damage he did, just as Oswald was waking up.

"Good morning. Did I do that?" he asked pulling my shirt open. "I hope I did not hurt you too much."

"It's fine, but I have been thinking: if you want Maroni dead why not ask me to do it?" I took a sip of my coffee.

He leaned forward, gave me a quick peck on the cheek and rolled out of bed enthusiastically. "You're the person to hire when you want something done right."

Before the club opened, Oswald and I met with Conner. We sat on one side of a small table with the hit man on the other. "You're sure the guns ah there?" he asked.

"Butch placed them himself," the Penguin assured him. "Do you remember what to say to Maroni before you do the deed?"

I sat in silence, the gears in my head turning. If Oswald didn't want Maroni dead, what did he want?

"I never saw the point in telling a man something right before you're gonna whack 'em, but you're not the first to ask for it."

Penguin smiled gently. "I appreciate you humoring me."

Conner had a point. A message was obsolete, however, sometimes I showed my face just so my target died with the knowledge knowing who it was that took them down.

"So how do you know Maroni is going to be in this exact bar on this exact day?" Conner asked.

"I follow current events," Oswald slide the newspaper he had been pretending to read across the table. The headline declared the release of Tommy Bones, one of the hitmen who worked for Maroni.

The band was loud and the club was more packed than I had ever seen it. "Bourbon and ginger," I ordered and sat next to Oswald at the bar. "I figured it out," I told him. "I figured out why you wanted Conner for the job."

Butch walked up to Oswald, looking distressed. "Maroni's still alive," he whispered.

"This is flat," Oswald hissed at the bartender and handed back his drink.

"Did you not hear me?" Butch demanded. "Maroni is still alive. You gotta get outta town."

I put a hand on Oswald's shoulder and leaned into their conversation. "And miss all the fun?"

"You knew!" Butch gasped. "You set him up."

Oswald's smile spread all the way across his face. "I took the firing pins out of the guns before you hid them," he boasted. "A spin on a trick I learned from Maroni."

"But you could have had Maroni dead!" Butch growled.

"True," admitted Oswald. "But I still would have been under Falcone's thumb and that has grown intolerable. No, I'd much rather Maroni be alive and out for blood."

I threw today's newspaper on the table in front of Oswald. He was sipping red wine and appeared to have been waiting for me. Articles about the mob war littered the front page and several pages in the middle. Maroni was taking guns to Falcone.

"You're going to tear this city apart," I told him.

"I'm going to save this city," he laughed hysterically.


	14. Chapter 14

I had a gun strapped to each thigh and another slung across my back. There was a dagger in my boot and a set of butterfly knives holstered on my hip. My outfit consisted of black cargo pants, combat boots, a black long sleeve shirt, and leather glove; my work clothes. "Are you ready?"

Penguin stood by the door of our apartment in his pristine suit. He leaned on his umbrella for support and the other hand held a neatly wrapped bouquet of a dozen red roses. "I've been read," he answered.

"Sorry, I don't feel like dying at Maroni's hand today," I retorted.

Butch came with us to the hospital, our own guard dog.

Falcone was restrained to a gurney in the hospital. The gurney sat in the middle of the room and the rest of the hospital wing was deserted. "Penguin," the Don breathed when he saw us. "Thank God, let me out of here. Maroni's men are gonna be her soon."

"Yes, I imagine they will, so I mustn't stay long. I thought I ought to say goodbye to you in person." Penguin put the roses on his lap and turned his attention to the cabinet and set of drawers also in the room. "It was me old friend. I did this to you."

Falcone began to struggle, pulling at his restraint. I snapped open my thigh holster and flexed my fingers, ready to draw the gun.

"It was me, old friend," Penguin continued like he was Gatsby. "I did this to you. I started the war. From the day I met you, I was planning it. I'm sorry it has to be in this little corner, but c'est la vie," he shrugged and pulled a scalpel out of the drawer.

"Why?" Falcone asked.

"Nothing personal, I assure you, sir," Penguin answered. "You have been a wise mentor and a good friend, but business must come first. I'm going to take your place, old man. I'm gonna be the King of Gotham."

"You? Never," sneered Falcone. "You're gonna burn in hell."

"I'm glad you're worried about that, but you first, old friend, you first," Penguin grinned and put the scalpel against the man's throat.

There was the sound of a cocking gun. I spun around and saw Jim Gordon with his gun to Butch's head. I whipped my own gun out and aimed it at my uncle.

"Walk away," Penguin tried to tell him.

"Shut up!" Jim ordered.

"You want to rethink that?" I growled.

Jim moved his gun and pointed it at Oswald, but remained holding onto Butch's collar, using the man as a shield. "Put it down; all of them."

I looked at Oswald for an order. I was sure that I could shoot first and Oswald probably wouldn't die. He lifted the blade from Falcone's neck and let it clatter to the floor. I placed my own gun on the ground as well as the two others and butterfly knives.

"Oswald Cobblepot, Butch Gilzean, and Miranda Saturn, you are all under arrest for attempted murder," Jim holstered his gun and handcuffed us all to the radiator.

"You're going to regret this," I growled.

"Didn't you hear? Falcone is out!" Oswald began protesting

"I heard," Jim replied, not paying him any mind.

"So release me, Jim. Release me and be on the winning side!" Oswald continued.

Jim persisted in ignoring Oswald. He asked Falcone if the Don could regain control; if he could bring order back to Gotham.

"Maroni's thugs are minutes away!" Oswald yelled at Jim. "And they're not really fond of me either, so you need to uncuff me, Jim. Jim!"

The cop picked up my machine gun. "Can you walk?" he asked Falcone.

"If I have to," the old man replied.

"Let's get you out of here; to your safe house." Jim began undoing the man's restraints.

"Jim!" Oswald called. "My friend, you are making a terrible mistake."

I studied my two companions. I couldn't reach my remaining weapons and neither could they. But if I could get Jim close enough I could hurt him and Oswald could get his keys.

"You can't leave us here!" Oswald began again. "Maroni's men will kill me; kill your niece! You arrested us. We're in your custody now. You owe me!"

"Detective Gordon!" Came a man's voice from the hallway.

"Don't kill them," Jim ordered Falcone and went out into the hallway.

Gun fire filled the hallway and echoed off the tiles. Instead of being involved, I was hunched over and unable to move from where I stood. The cold metal of the handcuffs dug into my wrists while the heat from the radiator burned. I growled and struggled, only causing myself more pain.

"Alright, let's go," Jim returned.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harvey Bullock had appeared right behind my uncle. He helped move the four of us to the basement and into an ambulance. Jim drove and Harvey rode shotgun. The back of the ambulance was cramped with me and three men. Still, I dared not leave the vehicle without my weapons; I would be walking right into the fire of Maroni's men. It was an uncomfortable silence between Penguin and Falcone.

"You're the Devil's Darling, aren't you? Falcone asked me.

"And if I am?" I responded.

"Why don't you just kill me now?" he taunted.

"What would be the point? I'd have to sit back with an old, bleeding body; Jim would arrest me again, this time on first degree murder; Oswald wouldn't have his moment of glory; should I go on?" But still, I pulled a blade from my boot and leered at him. "I do wonder, though, how much would it take to kill you?"

"Darling," Penguin spoke sternly, stopping me from getting close enough to draw blood.


	15. Chapter 15

The ambulance pulled into one of Falcone's properties; an empty warehouse.

"Anyone who knew about this place is dead," Falcone assured my uncle as the rest of us jumped down from the back of the ambulance.

With impeccable timing, a crew of punks showed up, challenging our authority. The first I noticed was a young, white girl about fourteen. The head of the crew though, was Fish Mooney, a woman we all believed to be dead. She had shaved half her head and pierced it, sporting a row of pyramid studs. One of her brown eyes had also been replaced with a blue one, but it was Fish, nonetheless.

"I know, I know," she grinned as our jaws dropped to the floor. "It's astonishing. Sometimes, I astonish myself. Seize them," she ordered.

I reacted instinctually as her cult converged upon us. I was able to drop two men before even reaching for a blade. I took another one out when I penetrated his abdomen with the knife before three more piled on top of me. I kept fighting as they bound my wrists together with rope. I was dragged to a meat hook and lifted up so that it caught the rope. I lifted my legs up and threw them over the shoulders of the man in front of me. My knees pressed against his skull and I jerked them to a side, snapping his neck. The body dropped to the floor and the rest were too scared to get close enough to reprimand me. Instead they continued stringing up those I came here with, leaving Butch.

"I should have shot Jim in the hospital," I grumbled as the rope rubbed my skin clean off as I struggled and my toes only brushed the concrete ground.

"Calm down, darling," Oswald sighed.

Fish pulled Butch aside, whispering to him. I strained to hear, but had no idea what soft words she spoke. I watched carefully as one of her crew handed Fish a cellphone. "It's him, boss," was all he said. Fish took the phone and walked further away, leaving me only to hope that 'him' was not Maroni.

"Hey you," the young girl with Fish poked at Jim.

"Selena," Jim called her. "What are you doing here?"

"Chillin'," she shrugged. "How about you?"

"Kinda jammed up," my uncle replied.

"Yeah that's too bad," she laughed.

I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "I'm impressed by you; you're so young and tiny. How do you fit all that bitchiness inside of you?" I laughed as she sneered.

"Why, you," she began to threaten, but was interrupted by her own boss.

"Hello, fellas, hmmm, Carmine. Penguin, nothing to share?" Fish smirked. "Well, I have a little something. I just made a sweet deal with Maroni. He's going to give me back all my territories and all I have to do is give him Carmine's head."

Butch had been hovering over Fish's shoulder, looking like he wanted to vomit. He was sweating and shaking. "I've got to lie down," he whispered to Fish and exited.

"What did you do to that poor soul, you sadist?" She hit Oswald's chest.

"I swear to you," he spoke, most likely intending to throw the blame on Falcone and Zsasz.

"You will die a slow, painful death on account of Butch. You too, Carmine. You," she pointed to Jim. "I'll keep it simple. You," she addressed me. "You can watch your pathetic boyfriend die first, and you," she said when she got to Harvey. "We're cool. Any questions?"

"Fuck you," I spat, earning a slap.

"How you gonna kill 'em?" asked Selena.

Fish laughed. "I love this girl."

It wasn't long before Sal Maroni showed up with numerous soldiers of his own.

"So there he is," Fish greeted the other Don.

"Fish! You mysterious, gorgeous killer, you. I love you," he kissed her cheek customarily. "This is delicious! You are hard to kill old man."

"Your men are just second-rate," Falcone retorted.

"I speak not for myself, but for you," Penguin called out. "Because I still respect you. Keep Falcone alive. Once he's dead, Maroni has no use for you. He'll kill you. The last thing he needs is another rival!"

It worked, Fish and Maroni began arguing. Maroni thought of her as an underboss, but Fish wouldn't even take orders from Falcone when they worked together.

"What we are Sal, are partners," she growled.

"Yes, I'm partner number one and you are number two. One, two, it's simple math," he grinned, sleazily. "Guys, can you feel the buzz in the air. That's victory, redemption, power. We will whip this town like a rented mule, right, babes? Relax I'm kidding. Guys, no, seriously, though, don't call her babes or."

There was a bang and a red dot appeared on Maroni's forehead before dropping to the ground. Fish had shot him, tired of his demeaning speech. Maroni's men rushed at Fish, determined to defend their fallen leader. Bullock helped down Falcone and Jim, and my uncle rescued me in turn before running. I helped Oswald and dragged him to a hidden spot, still within the warehouse. I was an assassin, not a solider; my strength came in stealth and surprise. We sat shoulder to shoulder without a word. I could see the gears turning in Oswald's head. Several men dropped near as and we scrambled to get their weapons before returning to our hiding spot, where we were biding our time.

I risked a peek at the center of the warehouse where Fish stood. Selena had captured Harvey, Falcone, and my uncle and the rest of Maroni's men had either fled or been eliminated. I nodded and Penguin took up a machine gun and I left the sanctuary holding a glock. We fired at the parley, not worrying about casualties.

"Fish!" Penguin cried when they were all dead or scattered. "Where are you?"

I pointed to her figure ascending the stairs. Penguin hobbled after her while I stayed below. I systematically killed the rest of Fish's men; found where they were hiding and put a bullet between their eyes. It was my intent to shoot everyone, but my uncle. Yet I was also unable to find Falcone, Harvey, and Selena. I could not find the righteous trio, but they were not my concern. I needed to make sure Penguin would ascend to the throne after this botched coup d'etat. I followed my boyfriend up the stairs and onto the building's roof. The wind whipped around me, freezing my nose and ears. Penguin and Fish stood clutching each other and Butch stood pointing his gun at one and then the other and back again, conflicted between his own desires and Zsasz's torturous training.

"Shoot her, Butch! Do as I say, Butch, shoot her!" Penguin yelled and Butch aimed at Fish.

"What are you doing?" Fish cried, not fully understanding how deep Butch's rewiring went. "Stop him!"

"My friend," Oswald tried again. "Remember your training, I order you to shoot her!"

"I'm your girl!" Fish pleaded and shakily, the gun swung back to face Oswald.

I didn't want to intervene in case it caused Butch to falter and shoot Oswald.

"Kill her now!" he demanded.

Butch pulled the trigger and Fish doubled over. Just as Oswald thought he had won, Butch shot him as well.

I ran up to Oswald and caught him. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he pushed me off.

I looked around for a weapon since I was once again, gun-less. The roof was littered with rubble like plywood and broken planks. I picked one up, wielding it like a bat and strode over to where Butch knelt beside Fish. "What did I do?" he was crying. "I'm so sorry, how do I fix this?"

"It's not your fault," she tried to comfort him. "They messed with your mind."

I struck him in the back of the head. With a resounding crack, his eyes rolled back and he fell over. Penguin pushed past me and rushed at Fish. He connected with her and pushed her against the building's ledge, lifting her up until she toppled over. With a cry, she fell and splattered on the ground below.

Penguin began laughing. It started as a low, rolling chuckle and turned into hysterics. "I'm the King of Gotham!" he yelled into the empty night. "I'm the King of Gotham!"

I had never seen him fight before; I had thought his only weapon was his forked tongue. He had eliminated all the crime bosses in one night. As he stood with his arms held high, I could only think of taking that suit off of him. I gently ran my hands up his legs and caressed his inner thighs. He clambered down from the ledge to meet me.

"My Queen," he kissed me deeply, his hands running down my back and back up my front, under my shirt.

Shuddering, I moaned, "Penguin."


	16. Chapter 16

I loved the new house Oswald had moved us into. It felt regal and it was much larger than anything I could ever imagine owning. I liked watching how easily he filled Carmine's roll at the head of the table. He sat in a chair that was more like a throne, and I got to sit at his right side. These were regular meetings, but this time we were interrupted.

"Jim, come on in," the Penguin smiled. "My dear old friend."

"We need to talk," my uncle didn't share Oswald's enthusiasm.

"Leave us," he waved away everyone in the room.

I ignored this order, instead I leaned forward in the chair and rested my hand on his knee.

"Hey, Selina, moving on up?" Jim greeted the street rat, but dismissed me.

"Trying," she shrugged

"Isn't she darling?" Oswald beamed. "It's like having a cat around the house without all those dead mice."

Jim sat down, all business. "I need a favor. You owe me one."

Oswald smirked. "I'm always happy to help you, Jim, but I don't recall owing you anything."

"The hospital?"

I laughed. "He's got a point, babe."

He glared at me. "And so do I, I was only there because Jim arrested me."

"For first degree murder!" Jim argued. "Remind me why I let you go?"

Oswald shrugged. "I'd say we're even, but I'm so happy that you came to me. Consider your wish granted."

"You don't know what it is yet," Jim pointed out.

"Does it matter?" He looked at me. "You're more like family, now. But I know you want Loeb fired and your old job back."

"Yeah, I do," Jim raised his eyebrows. "Are you gonna help me or not?"

"Of course, but while I consider, maybe you could do a favor for me?" Oswald proposed. "I'm having a small business dispute with a friend of mine. Perhaps you can talk to him."

"No!" Jim declared and walked out.

"Don't say no now, Jim. Sleep on it!" Oswald called at Jim's back.

"He'll do it," I assured him. "He has this weird desperate desire to be a cop."

Oswald sighed and kissed me gently.

He brought the group of underlings back in to announce the debt was being taken care of.

I spent the day wandering the city looking for something to kill. I was curious how much a person could bleed before the public noticed. It was like an experiment. The result: a lot.

I returned to the house with my hands covered in blood, well past the wrist and my shirt white shirt had turned red and would soon be brown. Oswald was at the meeting table with Butch and Jim had returned.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Oswald was counting money. "I will make sure there is no follow up from your colleagues. Don't worry about a thing. Ah! Miranda!"

"Hey, babe, Jim. Didn't mean to interrupt," I waved awkwardly.

"Not at all. We're done here," Jim growled, frowning at me, before he left.

"We need to get you cleaned up," Oswald declared.

"You don't like this look?" I giggled and pressed my bloodied hand to his face.

He spluttered and backed away. "You are being very immature!" he accused and tried hobbling away.

I shrugged. "Now you have to get cleaned up, too."

He turned back to me and brought his face only an inch away from mine. "I am going to wash this blood off my face, you are going to get cleaned up, and then I am going to fuck you until you're begging me to let you come. But I won't let you. I am going to leave and ensure Jim Gordon gets reinstated as a detective. Then, when I eventually do come back to you, you'll have to beg again all over again," he hissed.

My heart was pounding and I never wanted to take a shower so badly in all my life. I didn't understand how I could feel that way about anyone.


	17. Chapter 17

A file found its way onto my lap while I sipped my coffee and watched the people through the glass window front. Inside the file was a headshot of a man and a detailed outline of his life included last known location. Aside from the papers was a receipt confirmation for a bank wire transfer. I recognized the number where the money was coming from. I closed the file, put it in my bag as confirmation that I was accepting and headed out.

I didn't hear what Harvey had said to Oswald, but I saw him throw his glass against the wall and shatter it. I grabbed Harvey under his chin and slammed his head onto the table.

"You might be a cop, but I've killed much more important and prominent men than someone from the GCPD," I hissed. "Next time you disrespect my Oswald will be your last."

I let him up and waltzed over to the Penguin. He took my hand, put it on his shoulder and then began running his hand up my inner thigh as I stood next to him.

"You really shouldn't touch the cops, pet," he murmured.

"He'll be fine," I grinned. "I have to talk to you."

He moved his hand closer to the spot in between my thighs. "Whatever you wish, but not now."

I smothered a snarl. I had never felt obligated to tell someone where I was going or when I was leaving, but here I was trying to tell Oswald that I was going international for a few days and he was making it extremely difficult. I pushed his hand away. "I have to leave. I have a job."

He frowned and turned away from me lie a small child. "Fine go."

"I'll see you in a couple days," I told him, not sure why I even bothered.

I came back in a two days as I said I would, but Oswald was not there. Gabe told me he was out with Butch killing candidates for mayor so I sat in his seat at the table and begin carving my name into the table with my life.

"Penguin's gonna be pissed," Gabe said.

"Penguin can lick my clit," I growled back at him.

I was carving the L of devil as Oswald limped into the room wearing a pinstripe suit and bowler hat. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing going around killing politicians? What if someone noticed you? You're a lot easier to identify than I am. You could have gotten me. You could have called me. I would have come home!"

"Relax, Victor is getting Hobbs," he sighed as he took off his hat.

"Why do you want to kill politicians in the first place?" I asked.

"Galavaan has my mom. They'll kill her," he answered.

I knew this was when I was supposed to mimic his sadness and concern. But I never cared for his mom, in fact, I thought her a nuisance. "So the king of Gotham is bending at the knee to this nobody because he never stopped being a mommy's boy," I responded, tired of pretending.

"There is nothing wrong with caring about family!" he screamed at me.

"Of course not, unless you let it make you weak," I sneered and stormed out of the house. I liked Oswald because he had the potential for power, but now he was letting it slip away.


End file.
